


Hard Love (Gavin/Reader)

by e_n_silvermane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Out of Character-ness, gavin and reader are partners at the DPD, gavin's a mess and the reader just wants to help, if you think it could trigger you at all please don't read!, mentions of depression, self-starving, warning: mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_n_silvermane/pseuds/e_n_silvermane
Summary: Reader decides to check up on Gavin, because he hasn't been in the precinct for a while. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't this - but she's determined to help him get better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I reread this a few times and I'm just going to be honest, I have no idea how to write this. If I did it horribly, please tell me what I can do better!  
> Also let me know if the formatting is slightly off, I'm still getting the hang of posting on here.  
> A FINAL WARNING: this story includes mentions of depression, self-harm, and self-starving. Please don't read if these topics will trigger you!! Take care of yourselves, lovelies <3

“Gavin.”  
Nothing.  
“Gavin.”  
Shuffling, a soft thud, then silence.  
“Gavin, open the door.”  
“Fuck off.” A dry, raspy voice sounded faintly just past the entryway. You sighed and tried the doorknob for the fiftieth time in a row. Still locked.  
“I’m not covering your ass on the paperwork this week. Open the door.”  
“What part of ‘fuck off’ did you not get?”  
“Gavin, what’s the matter with you?” Ah yes, the emotional approach, the last resort, because if asked—  
You could hear locks turning and deadbolts shuddering. Finally, the door swung open, and you came face to face with Gavin, who looked a little (more like a lot) worse for wear.  
“You wanna know what’s fucking wrong? You’re on my front step, bothering the hell out of me while I’m trying to drink in peace. That’s what’s wrong.” He glared at you fiercely with bloodshot eyes and a sallow face.  
“Sweet Jesus…” you muttered, taking in his sickly appearance. “Have you been home with the flu or something?”  
“No, now go the fuck away.”  
“Nuh-uh, now I’m concerned. You look like a dead man walking.”  
“God, just walk right in, why don’t you! Sit yourself down, lecture me about personal hygiene…” He turned to retreat into the house, leaving the door open. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to take that as an invitation, but you did anyways, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.  
Gavin’s house was an absolute wreck. Empty beer and whiskey bottles littered practically every surface, there were blankets strewn everywhere in the living room, and there was a musk about the place that suggested several spoiled foods in the refrigerator.  
“Are you camping out in here, or what?”  
“Oh, for the love of God, just go away.” He had collapsed in a heap on the couch, face buried in a mauve-colored blanket.  
“Okay, okay, I can see you’re in a bit of a…” you paused to look around the room once more. “...situation. Now seriously, what’s wrong?”  
“Nothing.” He hiccuped and groaned in frustration. “Nothing nothing nothing. Will you leave me alone now?”  
“Nope, I’ll just keep asking until I get an honest answer.”  
“I ha—” Hiccup. “—hate you.”  
“That’s nice. What’s wrong?” Your tone was flat, but your face showed clear worry as your partner tugged at his hair and curled up closer to himself, as if feeling threatened by something.  
Gavin swore under his breath and clutched at his stomach suddenly, hunching over as if he were in great pain. You dashed to his side, putting a hand on his back and trying to see if he needed an ambulance. Was it alcohol poisoning? Was his liver giving out?  
“Gavin, what the fuck is going on?”  
“Hurts,” He rasped out. “It’ll be okay. It goes away.”  
Then his stomach growled loudly, announcing its hunger.  
He cussed again at the same time as you said, “Oh, hunger pains?”  
“Yes, hunger pains.” He laid back on the couch, breathing deeply, arms still tucked around his torso. “They’ll go away.”  
You frowned worriedly. “Don’t you want something to eat?”  
Your question was met with a glare. If looks could kill…  
“No.”  
“Well, too bad, you’re getting something anyway.” You strode towards the kitchen, on a mission to get your coworker some decent food. The thought crossed your mind that maybe he hadn’t been eating at all the past few days. Something easy on the stomach would probably be appreciated.  
“Something like applesauce,” you murmured to yourself, worry growing with each pained noise that came from the living room. Despite looking through almost every cupboard and drawer and fridge shelf, you could only find three things that weren’t yet spoiled or stale: a half-empty package of crackers, a head of lettuce, and—surprisingly enough—a near-empty carton of apple juice.  
You brought the crackers and apple juice back out to the living room, where Gavin was now curled up with his mauve blanket.  
“Here. Eat slow, don’t choke, and I’ll get you something better soon. Maybe pasta—I know a place.” He didn’t move at all as you set the food down on the coffee table, sweeping cigarette butts and brown glass bottles out of the way.  
In the meantime, you busied yourself with the task of cleaning up the kitchen. A watched pot never boils, after all. Throwing out all the rotten food and a particularly nasty sink sponge was gross, but after that came the easy stuff, spraying things down and wiping away grime. Well, that was still some level of disgusting, but rather satisfying once everything was good and clean. The countertop, stove top, microwave door and rim of the sink were all scoured and shining by the time you were done with them.  
I feel like an AX400, you thought to yourself with a slight air of disdain.  
You stepped back into the living room to see that Gavin, in the half hour you had taken, hadn’t touched anything. The juice in the carton remained at the same level, and the cracker package hadn’t been opened. He was pressed up against the back of the couch, facing away from the food he had been provided.  
“Gavin,” you started, but he broke in before you could say anything more.  
“Go the fuck away.”  
“Gavin, will you please just eat? You’re hungry. You must be starving.”  
“No I’m not.” He lied right through his teeth, and groaned in frustration when his stomach betrayed him with a feral growl.  
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”  
“Nothing, and no. God, you’re so annoying. Who told you to care? Who told you to come find me? No one. You shouldn’t be here.”  
“Is it really so hard to believe that I came to see what’s been up with you of my own accord? Nobody told me to come find you. I decided I wanted to.” You laid a hand on his back and immediately retracted when he shot a deadly glare over his shoulder.  
“Of course that’s hard to believe, it’s fucking ridiculous.” If anything, he was turning in your direction now, so that was...slight progress, if you didn’t count the seething anger seeping out of his every pore.  
“Why? Why is it ridiculous?”  
“No one cares.” Back to the blanket he went, burying his face in the pale purple fabric.  
“I do.”  
A scoff. “You don’t. Trust me, princess, you don’t.”  
“I do.” You tried again to gently lay a hand on his shoulder, and this time, he didn’t immediately send a silent death threat your way, so you took that as a good sign.  
There was a drawn out pause, in which you awkwardly patted his shoulder as a kind of “there, there” gesture.  
“...Why?” He finally spoke.  
“Well for one, you’re my partner—” a scoff from Gavin— “—but for another, and this might just be a one-sided thing, don’t know how you feel about it—you’re my friend. Maybe you’ve never had a proper friend before, but I tell ya, they’re really supposed to care, you know?”  
“Or you’re just a mother hen looking to baby someone.”  
“Woah, was that a crack at me? You must be feeling better already.” You tilted your head when he stayed quiet. “Come on, Gav, I know you’re smiling.”  
“You don’t know shit.”  
“And there it is, the confirmation that you are indeed smiling.”  
With that, Gavin turned and lunged at you, knocking you to the ground and somehow managing to bash his head into the coffee table.  
“Ow ow ow ow...fuck…”  
“That’s what you get. That’s what you get for trying to tackle the person who’s actively making attempts to help you.”  
“Shut up, will you? Oh my God, my head—”  
“I just, wow. Does trying to be playful always end up this bad for you?”  
“Just shut the fuck up,” He groaned, holding his forehead with both hands.  
Now your worries returned. “Gavin, you okay? Is it bleeding?”  
He was quiet for a minute, and then he started to laugh. “You really are just a mother hen.”  
“That may be true, but the question still stands. Are you okay?”  
“Just peachy, princess. Hurts, but I’ll be fine.” Carefully, he stretched out on the dingy carpet. “I don’t wanna get up yet, though. The floor’s nice today.”  
“Oh no you don’t. You have food to eat.” You reached over to lift him, but he smacked your hand away.  
“What is it with you and the food? I don’t want to eat.”  
“Why not?”  
“Not hungry.”  
You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Gavin. We both know that’s a lie.”  
“And what of it? I don’t want to eat, that’s all you need to know.” He returned to his defensive stance—as defensive of a stance as one can have lying down. You weren’t having it, and despite being clawed and smacked at like you were dealing with a cat, you propped him up against the couch so he could safely eat and drink.  
“Gavin, listen up, you burnt-toast-looking motherfucker,” The words left your mouth before you could think twice, but you had his attention now. “I’m going to ask this one more time and you better answer me because believe it or not I want to fucking help you. Alright? Are we clear? One more time, Gavin.”   
The look on his face was the epitome of sullen expression, but he gave the slightest nod in return.  
“Okay. What’s wrong?”  
Silence. Just as you were about to chide him for an answer, he opened his mouth to speak.  
“I hate it.”  
You waited a moment, then asked him to continue.  
“Fuck, I just… you ever feel numb? Like you’re floating through life and nobody gives a fuck so you start trying shit to see what’ll make you feel? I hate it, but...”  
You nodded, deeply concerned about where this was heading.  
“It… yeah, it explains a lot of things.” He pointed to the empty beer bottles, and then to his stomach.  
“You tried alcohol...and it didn’t work,” You guessed, and he nodded.  
“I tried scratching, and it didn’t seem like enough. Cutting wasn’t enough either.”  
Oh no. You didn’t like where this was going.  
“Burning was close, but this…” He gestured to his stomach and his face crumpled as it growled with a ferocious hunger that had been left unsatisfied for days. “This worked. For a while.”  
“Oh, Gavin,” You murmured, feeling tears well up in your eyes.  
“And then it, well, it got bad. I passed out on shifts sometimes. It happened so often that Fowler just said ‘fuck it’ and told me to go home. That you would be okay on your own. So I did. And… and now we’re here.” He blinked furiously. “Are you happy now?”  
“Can I hug you?”  
His head snapped up and your heart broke when you saw the tears brimming in his eyes. “What?”  
“Can I hug you? I would’ve hugged you already, but you know. Consent and all that.”  
“...” He sat there staring at you for a few seconds, and then laughed dryly. “I know I’ve said it twice already, but holy shit, you’re a real mother hen. Yes, you can fucking hug me.”  
At that you reached out and pulled him in, tucking him under your chin, one hand rubbing his back soothingly while the other gently combed through his hair.  
Gavin leaned in to your touch, though not completely. Apparently he didn’t want to give up any shred of dignity he had left, even if it meant being comforted. But as you rocked him back and forth and he felt your palm against his back, small and warm but supporting all the same, the dam finally broke.  
He clutched the back of your shirt like it was his only lifeline, burying his face in your collar and sniffling, wishing he didn’t feel the burning shame that came with the tears that fell on your shoulder.  
“I’m sorry, I-I just—I’m trying to stop, give me a minute—”  
“Shush, honey, it’s okay to cry. Let it all out.”  
You held him close as he sobbed into your shirt, rocking gently from side to side and smoothing down his hair every now and again. His wails increased in volume until he was all but howling against your collarbone, and you considered pulling away to see if he actually was hurt badly from cracking his head on the coffee table, but he had a tight grip on you and you figured he wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon. So you let him cry and yell and dig his fists into your back in an attempt to hold you closer than physically possible, and eventually, after a good fifteen minutes, he began to quiet down.  
You kept rocking him back and forth, humming soft tunes and threading your fingers through his hair while the last tears fell and a few remaining sniffs were heard. Gavin’s iron grasp relaxed, and he fell limp against you, abandoning what little pieces of pride and dignity he had left.  
“I’m really sorry.” His voice was small, and raw, and broken.  
“Don’t be. It’s okay.” You cradled his head gently. “You’re going to be okay.”  
“How can you be so sure?” Oh, how doubtful he sounded. You felt a deep ache in your chest.  
“Well, because I’m going to help you be okay. And then we can go from okay to good, and hopefully from good to great. But let’s start small, with okay.”  
“...which would be…?”  
“Dining on crackers and apple juice. And staying the night with your friend. Having a simple breakfast in the morning, probably oatmeal or applesauce or cinnamon-raisin rice, going to see a shrink, and hopefully, learning to feel again.” You paused. “To be happy again.”  
“Sounds exhausting.”  
“I know. We’ll start with the crackers and apple juice.”  
And that was how you spent your evening, administering sips of apple juice and bites of cracker to Gavin, whose head hurt tremendously from dehydration, malnutrition and (let’s not forget) being smacked against a coffee table. From there, you led him out to your car and watched as he fell asleep in the passenger seat.  
“Yup, this one’s mine,” you murmured to yourself with a soft smile.  
And from there, up the front steps, through the front door, past the living room and dining room and right to bed. He woke up for a few moments when you were pulling your favorite fleece blanket over him, looking around blearily and mumbling a ‘goodnight’ to you before conking out again.  
You took a blanket from the end of the bed and trundled out to the living room, falling asleep even as you were curling up on the couch. The last thoughts of the night before you drifted off curled in tiny words and phrases around your head, silently reassuring you and Gavin both:  
You’re going to be okay.  
Even if it’s hard love, you’re going to be okay.


	2. First Impression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by a few people, here's a follow up on our favorite trash character...

“So, how was therapy today?” At the moment, you were perched on the arm of Gavin’s sofa with a cup of your favorite warm drink, tilting your head curiously in the direction of your friend.  
“Eh.”  
For the past few days since you’d found him hiding out in his own house, Gavin had been playing roommate with you, sleeping in your bed and occasionally getting up to eat. This was convenient, because you always knew whether he was doing okay or not. Sometimes he’d stare at a wall until you talked him out of his trance. Sometimes he’d be awfully mean, but would apologize profusely for it later in the day. While it never affected you all that much, he thought it nothing short of amazing that your emotional intelligence was so high that you could tell from just side-glancing at him when something was off.  
Somewhere in the mix of those days, too, you’d landed a steady appointment schedule with a therapist for him--Doctor Santiago, her name was. A striking woman, smart, too, and very good at finding out things you didn’t even know yourself until they were pouring out of your mouth. You thought she was wonderful, and though he was begrudgingly secretive of his liking people, you knew Gavin did too.  
It wasn’t easy, of course. You were concerned for a little while that you’d have to bring him to the hospital, because he kept telling you his heart “wouldn’t beat right”, and he was often confused and disoriented. Although Doctor Santiago determined the latter to be dissociation, refeeding syndrome had been a real possibility, and you were worried for him. It turned out that the stress of a new environment had given him slight arrhythmia, and his heart would be fine when he practiced meditation and relaxing. Neither of those were things he he liked to do, but he had to if he wanted to return to a normal life. One of these days he would be able to do it without complaining. Well, you hoped he would.  
Gavin, at the moment, was face down in the couch, mumbling something about how he hated regression.  
“Not so good, I guess.” Gently, you smoothed down some of his hair. This was a perk that came with taking care of him. Normally, he’d be standoffish to everyone, and snap at anyone who dared to touch him even accidentally. Once he got around to trusting you, though, and trusting that your judgment could sometimes (he really wouldn’t let go of that word, sometimes) be better than his, he learned quickly that your touch soothed him more than anything in the world. With this, you were allowed to stroke his hair and hug him and hold him as you so pleased. Usually. He wasn’t fond of anything like that in public, but that was Gavin for you, he always had a reputation to be saved.  
And another thing: you and Gavin weren’t in a relationship, but you might as well have been with all the cuddling and cooking and watching movies together you did, which--to your internal delight and simultaneous dismay--you thoroughly enjoyed. You were so in love with him it hurt. Falling for with someone at possibly the worst stage in their life was awkward and kind of guilt-tripping--because, well, who knew you’d fall in love with a dork who stood in front of the fridge light at 2:03 A.M. eating cold Spaghettios?--and you felt bad because there were so many things you wanted to do with him, for him, to him, but you knew that for someone struggling with self harm and a plethora of other mental issues this was definitely an addition to their “stressful things” list.  
And Fowler wouldn’t be happy with it, seeing as you two were supposed to be work partners. But he could just deal with it. If it ever even turned out, that is.  
“You’re gonna be just fine. Want some tea? I’ll make you some tea. Orange jasmine or black?”  
“Coffee...” Gavin groaned, rolling over.  
“No, tea.” You poked him lightly. “You know what Doc said. No highly caffeinated drinks for you. Otherwise your heart’s gonna go wack again.”  
Gavin sighed with deep annoyance. “Fine. Black tea’s close enough.”  
You stifled a little laugh as you went to the kitchen to retrieve water for the tea, knowing that the black tea you had in stock was decaf.

The mug in your hands was just warm enough to be considered uncomfortable, and you were glad when Gavin took it. He sat upright to drink and you curled up next to him in the space left on the couch. Quietly, you two sipped, enjoying each other’s presence at best.  
It was Gavin who broke the silence.  
“What was your first impression of me?”  
You looked at him, slightly unsure of how to answer. “Is there something you need to hear?”  
“Doc told me to ask you.” Even though Gavin was a man of little words when he was being sincere, there was something off-putting about the way he sounded clipped just now. Something had to be hurting him, because he wouldn’t look at you.  
You decided to be honest.  
“My first impression of you was that you were, simply put, an asshole. Foul-mouthed, rude-to-coworkers, even-more-so-to-women kind of asshole.” The clinking of your spoon against your mug seemed too loud for the room, so you stopped stirring.  
“I-” He broke a sad smile. “Can’t argue with that. Sometimes I still am. Most of the time, I still am.” Gavin took a deep breath and set down his black tea, putting his head in his hands.  
You carefully placed your mug next to his on the coffee table and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to hear my second impression?”  
“Do I have to?” He groaned.  
“I think you should.”  
Silence.  
Looking off into space, you began to gently rub his shoulder and say, “My second impression of you was that you were alone and sad and didn’t know how to reach out.”  
He began to shake, so little that you could barely feel it, but his cracking voice betrayed him. “Yeah? Wonder why.”  
You continued on, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and letting him lean into you. “I don’t know if you realize it yet, but you’re not alone. If you can’t be happy with me, I’ll be sad with you. If you don’t know how to reach out, I’ll give you a hand anyway.”  
“You know, being forced into a depressive state by your roommate doesn’t sound great. If I can’t be happy with you, I should just--”  
“And my third impression of you,” You interrupted him, chuckling a little at the scowl he shot you, “Is that you are the first person I’ve really come to deeply care about. You’re the one I laugh with, the one I cry with. You’re the one I think about at midday and at midnight when I can’t sleep. You fell into my life and gave me something to live for, instead of something to merely survive for, and I don’t know how to thank you for all of it.”  
There was a moment of silence between you two, in which you gazed adoringly into his steel grey eyes. Sparks jumped in your stomach and met with a swelling bittersweetness.  
‘This is who I love. This is it. This is him.’  
And suddenly you were on your back laughing giddily, with two strong arms around your waist and a voice in your ear saying “Goddammit, you’re too nice!”. Surprising as it was, since Gavin had never really been the one to hug you first, it was wonderful, and you couldn’t have wished for anything more in that moment. Well, maybe just one more thing--but a full on kiss seemed a bit much. For a while, you laid there, smiling and stroking his hair rhythmically.  
“What did I do to deserve someone like you?” Gavin’s voice was quiet and low, with the rasp of a difficult life behind it. His eyelashes fluttered on your shoulder and you let out a tiny giggle, unaware that it was music to his ears.  
“Not much. I just like you too much to leave you alone.”  
He moved back a little to look at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Like me too much, huh?”  
“Yeah.” You laughed, feeling at ease despite the ‘I love you!’ tugging at your heart. “I like you a lot.”  
“Mmm.” He sighed with a smile and sat up to finish his tea. “I like you a lot too.”  
The rest of your night together was filled with idle conversation and television watching, mostly consisting of Gavin resting on the couch and sassing news anchors while you rolled with laughter on the floor. Nearing ten o’clock, you bid each other goodnight and he went upstairs to bed while you settled on the couch, scrolling through your phone.  
There were footsteps coming down the stairs, then, and you looked up to where Gavin stood, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, left side softly lit by the yellow-orange glow coming from the kitchen.  
“Hey, uh…” He started, then stopped. You waited patiently.  
“Yeah?”  
“I just… well, my first impression of you, was...”  
You tried to hide the giggles that were shaking your chest with giddiness. “What was it?”  
He coughed, cleared his throat, and spoke quietly, “My first impression of you was that you were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. You know, when you were walking up to me after that first run, you looked like an angel that’d been through hell. And you were angry, but it was...I don’t know. It was beautiful.”  
A bright pink blush crept across your face at this, and for the next few minutes you sat in what can only be described as the uncomfortable silence that follows a half-confession of slow-burn love.  
“...And then I called you bitch boy, didn’t I?”  
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, you did.”  
You two laughed at the old memory for a little while, and finally, the night ended with a long hug through chuckles and a loving exchange of “see you in the morning, dork!” “You too, dweeb!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As always, tell me what you liked/didn't like, and what I can do better, or even what you'd like to see in the future! Thank you for all your love and support :)  
> Love you & hope your day is spectacular!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this was okay to read! Drop a comment to tell me what I can work on :) Thanks for reading!


End file.
